


I like my bad habits

by CursedCursingViking



Category: British Actor RPF, Irish Actor RPF, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Discipline, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Light BDSM, Punishment, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 01:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CursedCursingViking/pseuds/CursedCursingViking
Summary: Michael and his girlfriend Emma get in a fight. Eventually, after calling him untrue, or at least distasteful names, Michael gets enough and punishes her.Also includes stuff where they resolve things from the past (kinda), eat take-out, and make out (and up, and fuck, excuse both my pun and bluntness).Way, way longer than I intended it to be, but here we are.





	I like my bad habits

**Author's Note:**

> Wooooow, I wrote another fic. I'm kinda getting back into writing (I say as if I ever had a habit of dong so). Michael has been a muse for me lately, along with James McAvoy(they seem to always go along each other), Alicia Vikander(I mean, how cant you love her?), and Tom Hiddleston(One of my OG muses™), so you might see something about them in the future. Stress on 'might', though! If there's something you'd like to read/me to write, hmu in the comments, and I'll see what I can do! 
> 
> This got way longer than I planned or expected, but I'll keep it in one chapter. I got some tiny, sparkly ideas to turn this into a series of one-shots. I can't guarantee aything though ;) But again, if I've sparked your curiosity, dont be shy! I would love to interact and maybe get some more inspiration :)
> 
> Feedback is of course also much appreciated! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it!

Emma was nodding her head to the beat of her music. A cigarette was hanging from her lips while she drew. She was in the zone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so focused and inspired. Lines and shadows were almost falling from her right hand, through her pen, and onto her drawing board. Her left hand had the shortcuts on the keyboard next to her, letting her change pens, brushes, colours, adjust balance and saturation in less than a second. She was consumed in the picture emerging in front of her when the music was suddenly turned down and the cigarette was taken from her mouth.

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke,” Michael scolded and stubbed the cigarette. 

“It helps me concentrate!” she protested with a groan. She had been on a roll, and he just interrupted her like that?

“Why don’t you use nicotine patches instead? They should work for longer too,” he suggested. 

“I could ask you the same, hypocrite,” she bit back annoyed and turned back to her work. 

Michael sighed and bent down to wrap his arms around her, too tired to have that discussion now. They had had it before, many times. He was a regular smoker, and although he knew the health risks and how Emma worried, he didn’t intend to stop or cut down. Still, he did everything in his power to convince Emma to quit. She rarely smoked, only when she was stressed out or felt like she needed a boost to her concentration. He knew how hypocritical it was of him, which was always Emma’s main argument, and he couldn’t spar with it. These arguments would often end in fights powered by their stubbornness, until one of them walked out, ironically, going for a smoke. 

“It’s coming along nicely,” he said, looking over Emma’s shoulder at the work on her tablet. 

“Hmph,” was all she answered with, pissed to have been thrown off her rhythm. 

Michael sighed again, taking in the homey scent of her hair. “How long have you been working today, luv’?” he asked, trying to start a friendlier conversation. 

Emma glanced at her timer. “Nine hours.” 

“Don’t you think you should take a break? When did you eat lunch?” 

“I didn’t,” she said shortly, trying to regain her concentration, “I forgot.”

“Have you worked for nine hours straight?” He let go of her and grabbed a chair to sit next to her. He looked at her face with concern and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, trying to catch her gaze, but to no avail.

“I guess?” She shrugged impatiently. Couldn’t he just leave her to work? She was doing so well.

Michael wrapped his hand around her wrist. “Emma, put it away. Come, have dinner with me.” He tried to make it sound inviting, although he meant it as a command. 

She sighed, saved her progress and turned off her computer and her tablet monitor. She didn’t really want to stop, but she knew if she continued Michael would grow more impatient than he already was. She didn’t want to fight now anyway. 

Last time, Michael had spanked her. ‘Spanked her. Like a five-year-old’ she thought. She couldn’t believe it, really. He couldn’t either, he didn’t know what came over him. He always talked with people about his ‘tastes’ before acting on them, and now, after that fuck-up, he was too nervous and embarrassed to bring it up. 

Emma didn’t want to either. She was embarrassed too, but for different reasons. She had liked it. ‘Liked it!? She was so hurt and frustrated, and yet when she left the room, she was dripping like a bitch in heat. What the hell?’ she thought. She hadn’t failed to notice Michaels obvious arousal either. ‘What did it all mean?’ She was confused. 

Michael rose and turned his lovers head, making her finally face him. Her eyes were cast down, almost closed. For a few moments, he just looked at her, her usual fierce demeanour looking fragile suddenly. There was a moment of pitiful melancholia in the dim room. “Luv’, are you alright?” he asked, the sudden shift in the atmosphere throwing him off. 

“I’m tired, Michael,” she whispered, sounding weaker than she liked. Quickly, standing and moving away from Michaels reach, and changing her tone to one less frail, she continued, “what are we having for dinner?” 

“I brought home take out,” Michael answered, his monotone voice matching Emma’s again. He went to open the window, to let the room air out. He might smoke more than Emma, but at least he had the decency not to do it inside. She sighed and rolled her eyes at him, hoping he didn’t notice as she walked out her studio, leaving her frustrations unsaid. 

“Watch the attitude,” he chastised, following close behind her. “You’re already on thin ice”

“Well, maybe, if you didn’t interrupt me with your overprotective bullshit i wouldn’t be!” She whipped around and shot Michael a glare that could cut through glass. Unfortunately, his will was tougher than that. 

“Overprotective?! Emma, you’ve just worked for nine hours straight on a commission you’re hardly getting paid for anyway! Your studio smells like an eighties nursing home and you haven’t eaten since breakfast!” Michael was growing impatient again, but he tried to keep his voice calm.

“Oh, as if you can say anything about working hours! Calling a twelve-hour shoot a ‘short day’. And don’t you fucking dare compare my smoking habits to those of some old lady unaware of the health risks, when you're the one easily going through a pack in an afternoon!” Emma was livid. How dare he? She was shouting now, and Michael followed suit.

“Just do it outside, for heaven's sake, Emma!” Realising his tone wasn’t helping, and that it wasn’t even the point he was trying to make, Michael took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead, sighing, ”Emma, I care for you. I don’t want you to smoke. I don’t want you to skip meals. You should take better care of yourself, and I’ll gladly guide you if you need it. And considering your last few days of binge working, I’ll say you do.” 

Emma was relentless and outraged. “Guide me?! Is that what you’ve decided to call it when you fucking beat me?!” she shouted. 

“More or less, yes,” Michael stated with crossed arms. That was pretty much how he saw it. At least the kind he had given her that first time, and what he, to his own surprise, heavily considered giving her again. 

“You’re a sadistic cunt.” she shot back, her facial expression basically being one big ‘get fucked’, before she turned around and walked away with a determination that would have made Michael weak in the knees, if she hadn’t managed to piss him off so immensely seconds before. 

For a second he just stared in shock, raising his eyebrows for no one to see. Emma was already halfway through the living room on her way to the kitchen. “Excuse me?” he called after her. 

She picked up a box of wok and noodles and a pair of chopsticks and went back through the living room towards her office, clearly planning to eat alone. Eyeing Michael, she answered coldly, “you heard me. Sadistic. Cunt.” enunciating each word angrily, to make sure she got through his thick skull, before continuing her path. 

Michael stared at her in disbelief, clenching his jaw. Any other time it would have sent shock waves to Emma's core, but she was too pissed to give thought to anything but her rage. When she passed Michael, he caught her upper arm in an iron grip. He leaned down and whispered hoarsely “that's enough. Last chance. Apologize. Right now.”

She stared up at him and narrowed her eyes. “Fucking make me.” She pulled herself away from Michaels grip, walking into her studio. 

“My pleasure,” he said under his breath and caught his stubborn girl in the doorway. With one arm around her stomach, he carried her to the couch, despite her protests, while the other took the take away the box and put it on the table. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” she tried to remain furious, but she couldn’t deny the dread that crept up in her stomach. Why did she have to be so stubborn? “Michael, please…” she was embarrassed how quickly her anger melted away for fear. 

Michael didn’t answer but allowed himself slight amusement at Emmas sudden change in tone. Was she crying already? In a short moment, he agreed with her. Maybe he was kind of a sadistic cunt. However, he preferred to be seen as a dom, and he was determined to make it evident. With that, he sat down and pulled his scared girl over his knee. 

“Michael please…” 

‘She really is trembling… this shouldn't take long,’ Michael thought. “Hush now, baby girl… you brought this upon yourself, remember?” His voice was sugary sweet as he not-really-but-kinda comforted the shivering girl in his lap. “Let’s take it slow this time, let’s do it right. We can’t have you be confused as to why you’re being punished, now, can we?”

“Please Michael…” 

“Tell me, Emma, why are you being spanked?”

“Michael… please don’t make me…” Her plea was barely a whisper.

Michael smiled. “You’re sweet, you know that, Emma? Lying in my lap like this, already whimpering… I haven’t even started yet. I’m going to have so much fun tanning your hide. You know why you stopped fighting so suddenly?” His right hand was slowly running over her backside, caressing her. His left held her hips tightly in place. 

“I'm scared” she offered. It wasn't exactly a lie, she was scared, but she knew it wasn’t the whole truth, or the answer he was fishing for. 

He chuckled. “I know you, Emma. You’re a fighter, and when you’re scared you don’t just succumb. You’re humiliated, aren’t you? And aroused?” 

She nodded, her face buried in the soft cushions. “Mhmm”

“I thought I noticed last time,” he answered with a smirk, but quickly let it fade. “I’m sorry about last time…” he trailed off, “I should have talked with you about it… still, I don’t regret it. I do think you deserved it. But you didn’t deserve the confusion that followed, and you didn’t deserve to be alone with it. Given your recent search history, I assume you’ve figured out what this is about for me. At least to some extent?”

“You looked at my search history?” She looked up at him, confused more than anything, before continuing, “BDSM or domestic discipline, right?”

“Next time, use your own computer,” he winked down at her, causing her to hide her face again. “And yes. What do you think of it?”

“I… I came across some uh… videos…” she trailed off

“I noticed” Michael added with a smirk and a tap to her bottom.

“I liked it… But when you spanked me… It hurt so bad, and I was so, I don’t know, hurt? It doesn’t make sense…” she complained. 

“It doesn’t have to,” Michael soothed “I can bring you just as much pleasure like this, as I can bring you pain”

“Michael, what is this? Wha- what’s this about? I’m getting mixed signals down here…” she said, humour actually lacing her words. 

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” he chuckled, before changing his demeanour to one more stern, “this is about two things. One: You understanding what last time was about, not to mention this. And two: punishing you. I’d say, we’re done with point one now, so unless you have any further questions, I suggest we move on to your spanking.”

The fear returned to Emma’s voice. “Yes… yes, okay.” 

Michael straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Alright then,” he said and gave her a few light taps to tune his aim. “Tell me, why are you over my knee, being spanked like a little girl?”

Emma hesitated. “I called you… I called you a sadistic cu - OW!”

She was cut short by the first blow. “What did you call me?”

“A… a sadistic cu - OW!” 

Again, Michael let the hit fall right before Emma could say ‘cunt’. “A what?” he asked tauntingly.

“Sadistic … ow… cunt… ow!” 

This time he let her say the words, delivering the strokes right after. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I don’t think I caught it.”

“Michael…” she whimpered, as he hit her again. 

“That’s not what I remember you saying, little girl. Try again,” he ordered with a growl, striking her again, causing her to cry out. 

“I called you - ow! - a sadistic - ow! - cunt! - OW!” Emma hitched her breath. 

“I thought so,” he said as he began delivering smacks in a consistent rhythm, the next harder than the previous. “A sadistic cunt,” he repeated, “and why did my sweet little girl use such foul language?” 

“I… I was angry,” She said between whimpers.

“And why is that?”

“Because you … because you try to control every bit of my life!”

“Is that so? Do I tell you what to wear? What to do for work? Who to hang out with?”

Slight guilt built up in Emma. “N-no…”

“Then what did I do?” Michael asked while continuing to spank the struggling girl.

“You… try to tell me when to eat… and not to smoke. Owww! And you interrupt me while working. OW!”

“To me, it sounds like I was trying to take care of you. To guide you towards better habits. Does that upset you?” 

“No… but I like my bad habits…”

“To the point of calling me names?” Michael almost sounded hurt.

“I overreacted. I- I’m sorry Michael…” she exclaimed in strained whimpers. 

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” he said, matter-of-factly, all former playfulness was gone from his voice as he lifted up her skirt. 

Emma didn’t have time to beg before Michael’s hand fell down on her ass again, this time not protected by the warm wool fabric. She hitched in her breath and let out a strained sob into the cushion underneath her. God, it hurt! The pain didn’t spread slowly and evenly like before, it was immediate and stinging right where Michael's hand left offending strikes. He spanked her harder and upped the pace, his anger returning to him.

“Next time you need a boost or a break, you go and buy a pack of nicotine patches or gum. Clear?” He scolded. 

Emma’s answer was only just loud enough to be heard. “Yes, Michael.”

“And next time you think working ‘just another hour’ is going to be okay, you take a break. Clear?” His volume increased. Emma’s, however, lowered. 

“Yes, Michael”

“And next time I anger or in any way upset you, you tell me, in a civil manner. Clear?” He growled at the trembling girl. 

The first tears fell from Emma’s eyes. “Yes, Michael”

“If you fail to do any of these, you can expect to find yourself over my knee like this again. Understood?” He hissed and paused spanking her for a moment, twisting his hand in Emma’s hair and pulling her head up from the cushions she had shielded her embarrassment in. 

“Yes, Michael,” she managed between sobs.

Michael sighed, calming slightly again. He laid Emma back down and caressed her blushed cheeks. “Stand up, darling,” he said, and helped her to her feet, leading her around the couch, only to bend her over the armrest. Pushing her skirt back up to her waist and pulling her undies down, he instructed her, “don’t move.”

Of course she wasn’t going to move. She was too scared to do anything that could even remotely be considered misbehaving. She felt like her ass was on fire. Why did his hands have to be so big? She didn’t realize what was happening. She heard Michael unbuckle and take off his belt. Was he going to fuck her? Why did he place her here then? Why not on the couch like normal people would?

She was stopped in her thoughts when a cutting sensation flashed across her already abused backside. Then again. And again. She was paralyzed. After three lashes she realized what Michael was doing, but she couldn’t do anything. She had hit her breaking point. She gave in to the pain, however excruciating it was. 

After giving her seventeen more lashes with his belt, Michael stopped and put it back on. Emma was crying her heart out. Michael knew her frustration, he had seen the like of it often before. He made her stand and dressed her again, then sat down and pulled her into his lap, cradling her. Hushing her occasionally, he let her calm down and come back to her senses. 

“I’m sorry Michael”

“Hush now… you’ve learnt your lesson, and you’re forgiven. No worries, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he rose and went into the kitchen. “I hope it hasn’t gone cold,” he said apologetically, referring to the takeout boxes in his hand and on the table, as he came back.

“Its okay,” Emma assured him and picked up her box. They ate in silence. Michael finished before Emma, and moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her and snuggling into her hair. When Emma finished she asked “Can we go upstairs?” and put her empty box aside. 

“Of course. Come here,” Michael said with a comfortable smile and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, causing her skirt to ride up. Not that she cared that much right now. She was just so… ‘So what? Tired? Horny?’ she thought, ‘what is he doing to me?...’ 

Michael placed her on the bed, half sitting, half lying down with her back against countless pillows and the headboard of the bed. She winced when her bruised backside hit the bed, the woollen skirt feeling coarse against her reddened skin. Michael pulled back from her and stripped off his shirt. 

Emma grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly, as if trying to hide behind it. She looked so innocent, except for her eyes, wandering lustfully over Michaels broad, toned chest. He crawled on top of her with a leering smile, trapping Emma between his arms and spreading her legs to either side of his. He planted a kiss on her temple before brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked her in a low voice, more tender than Emma had expected.

“I’m not sure,” she said and hid her face a little more. “I don't know.” 

“Tell me,” Michael whispered.

“I don’t know how I feel!” Frustrations were suddenly flooding her again. “I feel confused and alone, yet so at peace and cared for… Michael, I can’t explain it. I don’t know what to do. I just can’t explain it…” She babbled off, as she closed her eyes and covered her face with the pillow.

“Then don’t,” Michael offered caringly as he took the pillow from her, “just act,” he added in a whisper. He put his hand to her face and gently stroked her cheek. “It’s your call, luv’. If you wanna cuddle, we’ll cuddle, If you wanna fuck, we’ll fuck. If you want me to take the couch again, just say the words and I’ll do your bidding,” He went from pleadingly wanting to please her to playfully remind her of the obvious difference between this aftermath and the previous, causing her to laugh. 

In a profound moment, they stared into each other's eyes. Emma hesitantly put a small hand on Michael’s chest, before drawing him in for a kiss with the other. 

Michael broke off the kiss and moved his lips over her skin, down her neck to her collarbone, nibbling here and there. 

“Don’t take the couch,” she said when he broke off the kiss. “Stay here with me.” Her hands were in his hair, tugging and guiding him up closer to her face.   
He planted a slow, sucking kiss behind her ear, one hand gently combing into her hair to keep her head still. “Fuck me, Michael. Please,” she whispered. 

Michael’s eyes shot open and his movements stilled. He looked at Emma hungrily for a moment before he moved back up and began removing her shirt. 

Emma sat up and pulled the shirt over her head. As Michael threw it away, she unclasped her bra and threw it on the floor where it joined the shirt. 

They stared hungrily at each other for a split second, before Michael pushed her back down and began sucking her neck again, one hand massaging one of Emma’s breasts. 

Emma kissed Michaels neck and let her hands wander to his pants, where she unbuckled his belt. Fumbling with the button and zipper, she whispered, “take them off.” 

Michael complied, quickly removing his pants and socks, and returning to his spot between Emma’s legs. He raised an eyebrow, grinned and said, “an eye for an eye, luv’,” before swiftly unzipping her skirt and pulling it off, causing her to scream and wiggle in surprise. He put his hands on her hips to keep her still. “Easy there, girl,” he said teasingly. Brushing his hands over her abdomen and one of her thighs, he took off a thigh-high sock on his way down. Caressing her soft leg, he repeated the gesture on the other. 

“Satisfied?” she asked with a playful grin, pulling Michaels focus back to her face from her toned muscles. 

“For now,” he answered and laid her leg back down. He moved up and pinned his hands on either side of her shoulders, then whispered in her ear, “the question is, are you?” He moved his knee up to her labia and rubbed her clit through the soaked fabric of her panties, drawing a long moan from her. “My god, I didn’t realize you were this wet?! Who knew my little bird was this kinky?” he teased her with his surprise. 

“Don’t mock me, Michael! It’s not my fault you took your sweet time to bring it up!” she gave back with a slightly embarrassed laugh. 

“Sorry about that, luv’,” he murmured with a chuckle and began removing her panties as well. He began stroking her centre with his fingers, but Emma soon pushed him back and pulled his boxers down. 

“Tooth for tooth.” She raised an eyebrow cockily and sent him a look as if to challenge him. She pushed him down so he was laying in her former spot, and straddled him. 

“That's more like the Emma I know,” he murmured, and let a hand trace lightly over her heaving breasts. “Not letting others take charge of her. How fun a -” 

His musing was cut short by a groan as Emma lowered herself onto his hard cock. She moaned as she moved her hips up and down, feeling Michael stretch her and rub against her insides. 

He grabbed her hips and held her still. “If you would let me finish -” he growled and gave her a warning look. “What a fun challenge she is.” With that, he pushed her back down on his cock, until her blistered ass hit his thighs, causing her to yelp and seek comfort in the crook of his neck, raising her pelvis slightly. “Are you going to be good for me?” he asked in a whisper and petted her hair.

“Yes, Michael,” she answered and demurely let him turn both of them over, so she was underneath him again. 

He lifted one of her legs up, keeping her in place and open to him, and pushed back into her, doing his best to press against her inside walls. She groaned deeply as Michael brought his free hand down to circle her clit with his thumb.

“Your moans are obscene,” he growled in her ear and repeated his movements. 

“That's hardly my fault,” she sparred. 

“Touche, luv’,” He said, winked at her, and picked up his pace, pushing himself in deeper. “God,” he moaned in a low gravelly voice. 

Emma moved her hips in sync to his, digging her nails into his scalp and shoulders, moaning every time he stroked her g-spot. 

Moaning, kissing and biting, they drew each other closer and closer to climax. Michael’s hand was in Emma's hair, tugging and pulling gently. She had her hand stroking over his ass and thighs, feeling the muscles work beneath his warm skin. 

“Come for me,” Michael ordered, and as she felt his muscles tense up and his seed spill inside her, she complied, letting out almost a whimper and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him close. 

Panting and sweating, they rode out the aftermath. Emma curled herself up in a tight ball, and Michael cuddled up behind her, holding her tight. When her breath evened out and she was dwelling on the border between consciousness and sleep, he whispered, “I care for you, Emma. So, so much. Please never doubt it.”

“I would never doubt you, Michael,” She whispered back with a smile and turned around to rest her head on his chest. “Never.”


End file.
